Reading the Signs
by Falling-Petal84
Summary: Our Bakerstreet Boys go on a new adventure... There is a new villain in town or is it an old one? Mostly friendship, maybe a little bromance here and there for now at least. Rated T
1. Chapter 1

_Hello everyone! First time publishing a story in quite some time for me! I hope you'll enjoy it! I did the spell-check the best I could but I don't have a beta and I'm not exactly a native-speaker ;) So please do tell me if there are really terrible typos or grammatical issues. And now... Enjoy!_

When a certain ex-Army doctor entered his home afer a long day at the hospital tending to too many over-anxious mothers and their runny-nosed children, he had hoped for a quiet evening, a hot cup of tea and the comfortably silent company of one Sherlock Holmes.

But upon opening the door, John Watson already sensed the deep frown on Sherlock's face. It was like he could actually touch the mood of the consulting detective in the air. And granted, there he was flopped down on their sofa, pout in place, not moving at all.

After several months of flat-sharing, joint adventures and generally witnessing the brilliance of Sherlock's mind, one could say it rubbed off on John. It took the doctor only a quick glance at the dark haired man to know that somebody triggered the mood.

Mrs. Hudson, their sweet landlady, was out of the question of course. She may be capable of driving Sherlock insane at times but he would never go this sulky over one of her statements. The doctor was quiet certain that he didn't do anything insanely stupid for a change what left him with two other options. One, Mycroft had called and tried to manipulate Sherlock into taking one of his cases which Sherlock refused because it obviously was beneath his intellect and if Mycroft could not solve it himself, shame on him. John knew that most of the times Sherlock took the cases in the end anyway but would never waste an opportunity to drive Mycroft crazy. And in his head, John had to admit that it was amusing to witness although he'd rather be caught dead than to say that out loud.

The second option was that Lestrade had called on him because frankly these were about the only two people who called and put up with Sherlock's temper. If it really had been Lestrade who called, something must have gone wrong because his calls normally got Sherlock all excited over a case but the current mood pointed in another direction.

He just was about to start on the assumed call by Mycroft when he spotted the newspaper on their table. 'Two mysterious deaths in one week- what's Scotland Yard doing?' read the headline on the front page.

Ah, so it was the lack of Lestrade's call that sent Sherlock in this sulky mood, he thought.

"Any ideas?" he finally spoke up while shrugging off his new coat – a way too expensive gift of one insufferable Mycroft Holmes who probably feared that he looked underdressed, not to say shabby in his usual black jacket next to Sherlock.

When other people probably would have questioned what the hell John was talking about, startled by the abruptness of his inquiry, Sherlock Holmes of course wasn't.

John had learned quickly that Sherlock thought that greetings were a waste of breath and time at most occasions and had adjusted accordingly.

"Several and none at the same time to be honest since they didn't bother to put any information of interest in this article." he huffed.

John had a quick look at the paper and frowned slightly. Sherlock was right. There was no conclusive information about the deaths in the article but a lot of bashing on the police force. "I do agree with the opinion on the Yard though." Sherlock added as an afterthought.

John sighed. "Sherlock really, they aren't all stupid idiots there… just because you're smarter doesn't make them completely useless!"

That statement gained the doctor an appalled raised eyebrow.

"Not _completely _useless maybe but they're all idiots nonetheless and you know it, John. Even you are much smarter than them and you're not trained in police work."

"Trained in military work though… but I take that as a compliment. Have you considered that this article is the reason Lestrade hasn't called on you yet? Because he knows you agree with it and calling on you would basically mean admitting to it?"

John leaned back in is chair, looking thoughtful.

"Obviously. Shows his stupidity even more. He won't change the opinion by wasting time. As I see it, there is next to no chance that they will solve this case on their own therefore, by trying anyway, they are wasting time and most likely destroy important evidence on the way therefore they have to call on us after all and I have to spent time on reconstructing things in order to solve the case there wouldn't have been a reason to in the first place if they had called directly. Also, the more time they need to present any results to the public, the more useless they appear.

John took a moment to sort through the things Sherlock just presented him with in his trademark machine-gun deduction. "It's so irritatingly obvious even Lestrade should see and understand!" Sherlock groaned.

"So you're saying they won't be able to solve these cases because the deaths actually _are_ as mysterious as the make them sound in the paper?"

There must have been something in this article that sparked his friend's interested after all.

"Hardly, John, there isn't such a thing as a mysterious death. There always is a cause! But really, John, two of them? In one week? And if I'm not mistaken –which I'm not- there will be another one before the end of the week."

There was a small –and quite indecent- smile gracing Sherlock's lips that made John shake his head.

"Well we can't do anything and we won't know for sure until it happened…" he sighed. "Tea?" he asked, starting for the kitchen.

**SH - JW - SH**

Some place away on a rooftop sat a lone figure observing his surroundings, eyes trained on a balcony of the building opposite of him. A satisfied smile graced his lips. Perfect, he thought.

**SH - JW - SH**

Three trying days later –it wasn't easy to live with a sulking consulting detective- and there still wasn't any news of Lestrade. That itself surprised John if he was honest about it. The popular opinion about the Yarders was hardly news and the DI usually contacted them at the first signs of trouble. He played with the thought of contacting Lestrade about it if it meant that Sherlock would find the energy again to at least leave the sofa again.

In the end he didn't have to. They got the news from the telly already when the door bell chimed and Mrs. Hudson led Detective Inspector Lestrade in their flat.

"Look who's there… finally realised that you need me, haven't you?" Sherlock's face shows a smug superiority but he voice had traces of venom to it.

"Shut it, Sherlock, we don't have time for this…"

"If that's so why have you waited until a third murder happened?"

Both, Sherlock and Lestrade's, heads turned towards John, one looked surprised, the other was clearly amused at his friend's question.

The DI sighed. "Could we leave the discussion on yet another miscalculation of our abilities until this case is solved?" he all but pleaded.

"There won't be much of a discussion, only stating the obvious. I'm fine with skipping that part… for now." Sherlock smirked. "Where do we go?"

"East London, Pentonville Road…"

"Pentonville Road… right, go Lestrade, we'll be right behind!"

Sherlock was already halfway through the room to get properly dressed when Lestrade left the flat.

"Pentonville Road… sounds like a pretty random location to me." John mused out loud.

"Oh we don't know that yet, John, come on!" And although it could be kind of creepy, John was relieved to see the excited fire burning in Sherlock's eyes again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, hello again. Thanks for coming back to me, I hope you'll enjoy the new chapter. I still am a little nervous about writing Sherlock because I think especially the man himself isn't easy to write really in character, my apologies if I failed at it. I greatly appreciate a bit of feedback and constructive criticm, even a 'Hey I liked that' makes me happy!**

**Other than that, I forgot about that in the first chapter. I obviously do not own any of these characters although I wouldn't say no to either of them.**

**Enjoy the read!**

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><p>They arrived at Pentonville Road not long after Lestrade but he obviously had enough time to instruct everyone to let them through without further ado. Just like that John and Sherlock were waved through directly to the crime scene. They looked around, Sherlock's eyes flicking here and there memorizing every little detail of the surroundings before looking at the corpse.<p>

"John, what can you tell me?" the consulting detective asked.

"Mmh.." the doctor put on a pair of medical gloves and had a close look at the corpse.

"Male, I'd say in his late forties to early fifties. Dead for several hours, most likely six to seven, judging from the colour and the state of the blood around the wound. Entry wound at the back of his head, no exit wound. Probably shot from some distance, I suppose a window or rooftop since the bullet went in at an angle." John lifted his head, looking around. "Most likely a window of this building or the roof of the next one."

Sherlock followed his line of sight. "Why do you think so?"

"Assuming that the corpse wasn't moved, it's the most likely line of fire. But that building is too high, a shot from the roof wouldn't fit the entry angle, so from a window it is. The next building isn't as high, the roof could work." The blonde man shrugged and looked back at the corpse. He didn't realise the small proud smile playing around Sherlock's lips or the stunned silence of the officers around them who then took the hint and went to search the two buildings for further evidence.

"Good, anything else?" the dark haired man looked expectantly.

John methodically looked at the body. "Nothing special, heavy smoker judging from the state of his teeth and the stains on his right hand…" he hesitated. "Sherlock?"

The consulting detective took a closer look at the place John indicated. Almost invisible, behind the left ear, there was a small puncture of a needle of some kind.

"Interesting…" he got to his feet and looked at the DI. "And what information can you provide me with?"

"Name is Richard Miller, 48 years old, worked as an accountant."

"That's all?"

"Unfortunately yes… we couldn't get in touch with any of his acquaintances since he didn't have any family…"

"Dear god… anyone save me from incompetence. Okay let me ask a couple of questions which obviously didn't cross your mind. How is it possible that his guy lies in the middle of the street, dead as he can be, for several hours without anyone noticing? It's not like it's midnight or a hidden backstreet. Why would anyone want to kill Richard Miller? There must be a reason and most interestingly, what did he and the other victims have in common?"

Sherlock looked at Lestrade clearly irritated at his cluelessness.

"Oh never mind, try to at least find an answer for the location problem, okay? I'll have a look at the other victims since I'm a lot faster at doing your job than you are. Bodies are at Bart's I suppose?"

The DI didn't comment on the snide remark mainly because he didn't have anything to say. Sherlock was right after all.

"Send there for further examination and everything else to Molly Hooper, that's right."

"Let's go John, we need to pay Molly a visit, I haven't had a cup of her coffee in quite some time…" he called and left the crime scene without another word.

The doctor patted Lestrade on the shoulder, giving him a weak smile.

"It's nothing personal, you know Sherlock… we keep in touch if there's news, right?"

"Yeah… we do and I know… sad thing is… he's right! We do need him! I'll send everything we have so far to Baker Street. God knows, it's not much!"

* * *

><p>The moment Sherlock entered the lab, his coat flapping dramatically, Molly got this adorable nervous look that only a major crush on the man could trigger. John found that a little bit amusing although he felt bad for the young woman at the same time. Having a crush on Sherlock wasn't the easiest thing to have, he supposed.<p>

"Ah Molly… your hair looks different…" Sherlock noted and dismissed the thought as quickly as he mentioned it. "…anyway, you do have the bodies of the first two 'oh so mysterious' deaths, I understand. Could we take a look at them?"

"Ah, yes… now? They're downstairs…" she stuttered and Sherlock already was out of the door again. John chuckled at her confused expression.

"It looks good, you know? Your hair I mean. It suits you… shall we go then?" he remarked always the mediator.

"Sure… thank you…"

The consulting detective had already found the examination lab where the bodies were kept and was pacing around them poking here and there, when the other two followed.

"Took you long enough, post mortem is already finished I suppose so what's there? Anything special?"

Sherlock was asking about her work that's when Molly usually got a grip on herself again and started to talk without her nervous stutter.

"Nothing too special actually. Both of them were shot from behind. Bullet straight to the head. No other injuries other than the occasional bruise or abrasion from when they hit the street after they got shot. Both should have been dead even before they hit the pavement so they never tried to stop the fall."

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully.

"Naturally. What about the bullets?"

"Ah… a smaller calibre rifle I'd say, the bullets were sent to ballistics of course but there was something funny about the wounds, now that I think about it. The blood around them was contaminated with something. It looked like some powder…"

"Gunpowder?" John asked.

"My first guess too, but I ran some test and it wasn't gunpowder, it wasn't even the same substance… Mr Harrod here was the first victim and there were metallic powdered traces of Cobalt in and around the wound. The woman, Mrs Abbot-"

"Miss Abbot…" the dark haired corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"It was Ms Abbot… she never was married…"

"Err… okay… Ms Abbot had traces of Phosphorus in her wound… powdered red phosphorus if I'm not mistaken." Molly ended, looking expectantly at the two gentlemen.

"Traces of Cobalt and Phosphorus… what's that supposed to mean? Any ideas, Sherlock?"

"Actually… not the faintest so far… but it's quite interesting anyway. Make sure to text me the result of the third victim as soon as possible, Molly. Now, what about the punctures?"

Molly's baffled expression made Sherlock roll his eyes.

"The punctures, Molly, don't tell me you haven't seen them…"

"No… I mean, yes, the punctures behind their ears…" she stuttered embarrassedly. "There basically isn't anything about them… there wasn't any suspicious substance in their blood nor was there anything detectable from the wounds… it's like they are perfectly random…"

John could see that Sherlock's mind was working at lightning speed again, trying to puzzle the pieces together. But the strained wrinkles around his eyes also told the doctor that it didn't go well so far.

"Molly could you give us the reports of your examinations? They'll probably help us later. Thank you for your help. Let's go Sherlock!"

He steered the dark haired man outside and back to Baker Street as quickly as possible because John read the signs, had learned to read them months ago already. From this point on, Sherlock generally wouldn't sleep nor eat unless forced to but mostly he'll become all snappy and frustrated if he wasn't able to solve the puzzle. Better be back at home where his own walls got shot at and not random people.

* * *

><p>Rabid and sporadically off-key sounds filled the room and John Watson was slowly getting a severe headache. Ever since they got home in the afternoon, hours before, Sherlock was jumping from one place to another, at one moment pacing the living room, the next lying on the sofa and then playing his violin again, all the while interrupted by short report breaks when he looked at some details in the police files Lestrade had send them or Molly's notes. The violin playing was what grated on John's nerves especially. Sherlock was a more than talented violinist normally but as soon as he used his violin as a thinking process enhancement it sounded more like a baby cat being tortured. It was already well into the night and he was tired but with Sherlock on a case, he didn't even dare to think of sleep.<p>

Sherlock's mood had worsened with every hour that went by. They haven't gotten a step closer to solving the murders and it was obvious that it frustrated the consulting detective.

Earlier in the evening Molly had texted her results of the latest body, nothing out of the ordinary except that again there were traces of a substance in and around the bullet wound, this time Calcium.

John didn't have any idea what that was supposed to mean and as it seemed neither did Sherlock.

The music stopped thankfully and the doctor looked up hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Got an idea?" A frustrated growl was John's answer. "So still no idea then…" he got up and started his usual kitchen routine. Minutes later he put down a steaming cup of tea on the table next to Sherlock's chair.

Gently he touched the dark haired man's shoulder, feeling the tense muscles through the thin fabric of the shirt. His friend flinched at first but didn't pull away.

"Now there, relax my friend." Without thinking about it, he started to massage Sherlock's shoulders, gently smoothing out the hard spots.

Miraculously enough the consulting detective didn't say a word but took the cup and let out a soft, contented sigh, doing as his faithful doctor told him and relaxed a bit.

"Thanks…" he muttered tersely. "It's infuriating, I can't think… there is so much information, so many clues but they don't seem to fit together at all."

"You know, tense like this I wouldn't be able to think either…"

"You rarely think at all, tense or not, John… err, sorry… I didn't mean it like that…"

But John chuckled.

"Yes you did but I'm not mad because you called me much worse before… now drink up your tea and relax a bit more and then we'll start from the beginning again."

Ten minutes later they stood in front of their wall where Sherlock put together all the information they got so far.

"The victims got killed in various locations but always out in the open."

"The killer probably wanted them to be found quickly." John guessed.

"But why making the effort of closing the streets? They were killed in normally highly frequented streets but on these days they got closed down for some construction work or other." Sherlock replied. "The bodies being found wasn't the main reason. The three of them don't have anything in common other than that they do not have any extended family. Lestrade send about everything he got but there is no connection, they didn't even read the same damn newspaper." He scowled.

John sighed. His mind was kind of foggy from tiredness already.

"The last one was an accountant, the first was a door steward and the woman was a librarian… I don't suppose that all of them were secret agents having these professions only as cover?" he asked half-heartedly.

"You're being ridiculous, John… they were perfectly ordinary people, living their dull little lives." Sherlock dead-panned. "Otherwise Mycroft would have been here a week ago…"

"What do we know then, they all were killed from a hitman of some sort, hired or our man himself… the bullets were practically unmarked, the work of a professional, so no clue there too… what about the punctures? All three of them had them with no signs of an injection and it is an odd place to get a blood sample."

"Forget about the punctures, they don't tell us anything… they got them to throw us off the scent of something else, I think… irrelevant. No, there has to be something else… the chemicals, what are they telling us…" Sherlock looked at the three test results.

The ex Army doctor somehow was unconvinced that the punctures were entirely irrelevant but didn't say so out loud. In 9.9 of 10 cases Sherlock was right about every detail, John hoped for now that he was right this time too.

"Cobalt, Phosphorus and Calcium… maybe our killer is into chemistry… you are the chemist, tell me is there something that uses all three of them? Some metal or poison or something? Anything that could lead us to his location? Drugs?" John mused.

"Poison is unlikely, at least with all three of them. I suppose with Calcium and Phosphorus being used in fertiliser manufacturing there could be a way to develop some drug or explosive or something… but then Cobalt is part of Cobalamin aka vitamin B12 which is, as I'm told, important for the human body, there could be a way… oh…" he grinned.

Wearily John observed how the excited spark re-ignited in the pale grey eyes while Sherlock grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

"You certainly do have a talent to trigger my genius, John! That I did not think of this from the start."

In a matter of seconds, Sherlock stood in front of his book shelf pulling volume after volume of chemistry books out and then he started going through them, researching, analysing, theorising. John was forgotten for the time being.

The doctor got himself comfortable on the sofa and dozed off for a little while. Knowing Sherlock, the man wouldn't move an inch for the next couple of hours nor would he speak.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello again everyone! It took me a little longer than I intended to post the new chapter, sorry about that but with school and exams... what can I say, Sherlock isn't the only one fighting with chemical formulas XD._

_I hope you enjoy the new chapter. I had fun while writing it, I hope I got it across. _

_I probably should also apologize beforehand for grammar and spelling mistakes, I went over this more than three times, correcting, editing and rewriting, so hopefully it's not too bad. If there is anything big, please feel free to let me know and I'll edit it._

_And now, last but not least, I do not own these characters neither the original ones nor the ones of the Moffat/Gattiss 'sherlock' universe, I only own the idea of the story._

_And now, enjoy!_

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><p>It had taken him some time to arrange everything according to the orders he'd gotten. He wanted it to be perfect after all, couldn't afford a slip up. Especially now that he knew what would await him if he disappointed his boss. Actually he was lucky already if he was still alive in the end, his boss had a bit of a psychotic side and more often than not he shot his own people when he was bored.<p>

He pushed the thoughts out of his mind when he saw some movement at the corner of his eye. The main character for this night's performance had just arrived.

A smile played over his lips when he lowered his head to get into position. Showtime.

* * *

><p>The morning sun already brightened the sky when John Watson came back from his dream land, woken by a constant ringing and vaguely wondering where the blanket came from he was covered with.<p>

Suppressing a yawn, he mumbled. "Sherlock, your phone… someone's calling…"

"Perfect deduction, John…" he replied, neither moving nor looking up.

"You don't intend to answer that, do you?" he sighed, looking for the phone himself.

"Kitchen table…" was the helpful answer to his unasked question.

Answering the call, John was instantly awake.

"Sherlock, there'd been another one…"

Truth to be told, John expected the consulting detective to get up immediately, halfway through the door but the dark haired man didn't move at all.

"Anything special?"

John waited until Lestrade had described everything.

"Not really, open street surrounded by high buildings. Victim shot in the head, no known family…"

Sherlock looked up for the first time.

"They should take pictures of the body on location and the surroundings and bring the information here and Molly needs to send me her report as soon as possible, otherwise no need for us to go there, there won't be any new clues…"

John frowned but relayed the news to Lestrade who sounded just as surprised but promised to send everything quickly.

A little clattering around in the kitchen later, the doctor sat down at the table where Sherlock was still working, two fresh cups of strong coffee and a plate full with sandwiches.

Usually the dark haired man refused anything edible while working on a case, claiming that food would slow him down but from time to time John noticed that Sherlock would eat a bite or two if it was already prepared and he wasn't forced to eat. He suspected that Sherlock did it unconsciously since his gaze never left the papers or whatever he was studying at the time.

"Slept well?" the consulting detective asked conversationally, taking John by surprise.

He raised an eyebrow. What an odd question coming from Sherlock. "Well, as well as one can sleep on the sofa I guess, thanks for asking."

"You could have gone to bed… you moved around a lot in your sleep, frowning, glaring and mumbling all the time, that's why I was asking in the first place. It was a little distracting."

This revelation coloured the doctor's cheeks a deep red.

"Did I…sorry about that." he cleared his voice. "I probably dreamed quite vividly but can't remember what it was about… did I say anything comprehensible?" he added after a moment's hesitation.

He wasn't telling the entire truth, he did remember having a dream of red glowing eyes and growling noises right behind him, while he stood on the edge of a seemingly never-ending pool. Choosing between drowning in black water and being ripped to pieces by a monstrous dog wasn't exactly the kind of relaxing dream one wished for. But then, John figured, he was lucky after all. Recently, ever since the Baskerville case, he tended to mix all these dramatic experiences together in his dreams. Dreams like this one weren't the most refreshing ones, granted, but Afghan desert heat combined with gunfire thrown into the mix and you get one hell of a nightmare.

That's why John felt lucky, having Sherlock witness him sweating, crying and screaming from a nightmare wasn't exactly a situation he wanted to experience. He glanced up wearily.

"No… not really but I didn't pay much attention to it anyway." From the corner of his eyes Sherlock observed every detail of John's reaction. Of course he knew of his nightmares, he heard him frequently screaming in emotional agony but never mentioned it. Sometimes even Sherlock Holmes knew when to keep his mouth shut. John was fighting ghosts of the past, his own and regretfully ones Sherlock himself had caused. But there wasn't anything he could do about it other than to turn a blind eye on it, giving John the opportunity to block out the memories until his friend decided to open up on the matter on his own accord.

"So… have you found anything?" John changed the topic quickly. He looked more closely at the various papers scattered all over the table and the floor around it, filled with notes and references, various complex formulas and things. During his education at Bart's he attended a couple of chemistry courses obviously but that was a long time ago and he wasn't sure he understood everything he saw.

"There are many things… true it's a wide range with just the three substances there are lots of things you can do with them, some of them, I discovered, are quite interesting… but it doesn't help with the case so far."

For a second the doctor felt a little uneasy by the way Sherlock said 'quite interesting' because it probably meant he found something of interest to him and a new set of experiments will take place as soon as the case was solved. To get his mind off of that thought he looked around the room. It was only then that John noticed the map that Sherlock put up on the wall next to the crime scene pictures. The man must have moved after all. He smiled.

"What's with the map?"

"I thought it could be helpful… a pattern in the chosen crime scenes, locations of companies dealing with chemicals…"

John noticed a rare uncertainty in Sherlock's behaviour. It obviously irritated the taller man that he still had no answer to the case or even a clue but at the same time he was excited that he finally was challenged by a case again.

"You have already thought about who is behind all these murders, have you? Do you think it's him again?" John thoughtfully gazed out the window.

With a silent huff Sherlock put down his pen and took a sip of his coffee.

"Moriarty? I don't know, sure it would be about time that he shows his insufferable face again but these killings lack a certain kind of grace he normally adds to his game or an open challenge." He mused, pushing a hand through is unruly locks.

"True. They were pretty straightforward murders but the chemicals are no coincidence, the bullets must have been prepared beforehand, maybe his main focus is more on the riddle than on the grace this time around." The doctor sighed, leave it to Sherlock Holmes to point out a 'lack of grace' in a couple of hideous murders.

"It is a possibility, John, of course."

His phone moaned and John rolled his eyes.

"Seriously Sherlock, when will you change this stupid ringtone?" he grumbled.

The consulting detective amusedly raised an eyebrow while reading the incoming message.

"Why should I, does it bother you?"

"You bloody well know that it bothers me, it's really ridiculous, not to mention embarrassing. And don't tell me you keep it for sentimental reasons, Mr –I consider myself married to my work and caring won't help anybody- Sherlock Holmes." John crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"John, if I didn't know better, I would assume that you are jealous. Would you like it better if it was your moan every time I receive a text?"

The blonde man glared daggers at Sherlock.

"Don't be ridiculous! So what's the news?" he nodded at the phone.

"Just to get that straight, it was you who complained about my ringtone therefore it basically was you who was being ridiculous in the first place!" his tone got more serious. "Molly sent the newest results."

John hated it when the detective got all secretive and you basically had to beg for every piece of information.

"And?" he asked impatiently.

"Well, there is a change in pattern this time. There are two different powders around the wound now: Sodium and Potassium."

Thoughtfully he looked at a couple of his notes.

"Two more that fit the group of components for fertilizer and explosives even if minimally so… interesting."

"Very…" John mumbled sarcastically. "So our man is giving us a warning that he either plans to blow us all up or will try to return London back into jungle state with all the fertilizer."

"You know, childish sarcasm isn't considered an attractive feature, John." Sherlock said, rising to add the newest chemicals to his list on the wall.

"And since when do you care about attractive features, I wonder!"

"Never said I care just wanted to let you know, in case you're wondering why your next girlfriend of sorts will walk out of the door after you made a sarcastic comment about her non-existent intelligence."

"I never did that!" John thundered which made Sherlock actually chuckle.

"Agreed you never did so far but you forget, I know you better than any of them, I *saw* that you were very well thinking about it already and one of these days your tongue will slip and then you'll remember that I told you so!"

"One of these days I'll punch you, honestly! And this time I won't spare your face!"

"Oh yes you will, we both know that, mostly because you are a man of honour, John and this circumstance won't allow you to hurt me for telling the truth just because it's uncomfortable! "

John huffed, he hated arguing with Sherlock he always was on the losing end even if he basically was right in the beginning.

The consulting detective sensed John's capitulation.

"Now back on topic, you were right actually, John, 'our man' as you chose to call him indeed gave us a warning with the latest victim."

The blonde doctor frowned.

"He did? And what, pray tell me, makes you think he did?"

"John, you're being insufferably stupid today, look on the list, isn't it obvious? Three victims with the traces of one chemical and now one with two… he's planning a climax. Either, there will be another one with two and the last one with three or it's like a countdown, three, two and the last one will be the one that actually matters."

Sherlock grinned at John like a child who found an Easter egg.

Deep down John grumbled at his friend's statement, he was a doctor after all, a trained medical man to whom every human life mattered but he knew better than to say that out loud.

"Brilliant." He mumbled instead, after all this time still amazed by Sherlock's work.

"Hardly, as I said, it is obvious, it should be for everyone who looks at it, especially you. And now I have to get back to my work."

That one hurt although John wouldn't admit it. Being called stupid didn't matter, he heard it often enough by now to know that Sherlock still thought him to be a lot smarter than most people but this time it felt like he had disappointed the detective.

* * *

><p>After their conversation in the morning, Sherlock spent the remaining time of the day alternating between the table, scribbling away like the mad scientist he is and his usual place at the window, playing his violin and mulling over the things he found so far.<p>

It was an unfamiliar sight even for John, who lived with the consulting detective for quite some time now. Even the most difficult cases didn't take Sherlock that long to solve normally. It was rare that he actually was working on something akin gut feeling without a solid clue to what he was looking for. Or to put it metaphorically, normally Sherlock found the needle in the haystack by blowing away everything else with one strong blast of his intellect, this time it resembled more the search for the needle by turning over every straw separately. It was fascinating to witness.

Not that John spent all day watching Sherlock. Far from it. The half an hour it took him to get some of their basic necessities at the super market aside, he was working on the files Lestrade sent them. Sherlock chose the path of decoding the chemicals and he chose a different one with the victims' background. Officially there wasn't anything that connected them but something told John that it just wasn't found yet.

Carefully he read everything in the files but that wasn't much, then he looked the names up on the internet with varying success. Diligently he wrote down every bit of information, hoping that some of it at least would help to find a connection, if only to redeem himself in Sherlock's opinion.

One by one, the doctor traced back the lives of the victims and he almost reached the point that he wanted to give up and go to talk to some of the neighbours and colleagues himself –feeling that the interrogations of the Yarders were a bit lacking in depth- when he pulled up a map of their home towns.

Although being a military man helped John with his geography, he had no complete map system in his head like Sherlock, that's why he realized it so late.

"Oh…"

After hours of silence, this short exclamation managed to startle even Sherlock Holmes.

"What?" he all but growled.

"I found something, I don't know if it'll help with the case but it certainly is interesting. Our victims are said to have no connection. No direct connection that is. But look at this!"

John turned around his laptop for his friend to see.

"These pins on the map show the home towns of the victims."

"Interesting indeed, John. There we have the connection our dear friends at the Yard missed… again." Sherlock smirked which changed into an actual little smile when he saw the happiness light up like a Christmas tree in John's eyes at his words.

"I'm afraid it won't help with the solution of the case directly but it should confirm who we are fighting against. Well done, John!"

The doctor looked from Sherlock to the red dots on the screen, all pointing on or very close to the city of Dublin.

"So he's back again, after all. Moriarty."


	4. Chapter 4

**_A hearty welcome back! Thanks for the reviews again at this point, they really make me happy and motivate me to work harder. _**

****_**A little warning may be in order with this chapter, beware of the sparks that are flying around XD Other than that I hope you'll like this chapter and if you take a little time after reading to let me know what you thought about it, I'd be more than happy. It holds some crucial information after all.**_

_**And now, hopefully, enjoy the read!**_

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><p>Two uneventful days went by in a blur of frustrated pacing, hours of violin playing and the occasional argument between Sherlock and John. The doctor tried to coax the dark haired man into eating and sleeping on a regular basis, seeing that he really wasn't coming any closer to the solution of the chemical mystery without further input.<p>

To his immense surprise John succeeded the night before after loosing it just a bit.

* * *

><p><em>The night before<em>

"Sherlock!"

"What, John?" Sherlock snapped irritably, balling up another sheet of paper he was writing on just a couple of seconds before. Only moments passed before he sighed.

"Again? Really John, don't you have anything better to do than pestering me with these inconsequential things?"

The doctor stared at his flatmate and took a deep breath.

"Hardly inconsequential, Sherlock, quite the opposite I'd say. Food and sleep are two of the basic necessities; really I still don't understand how a man with this monster of an intellect doesn't understand this most elementary concept of life!" John replied. He kept his voice calm but with the frosty tone he could just as well have yelled at the consulting detective. That startled Sherlock enough to look at the normally extraordinary patient doctor.

"Listen, Sherlock, I'll no longer accept this. You're not the only one who is frustrated that we still have no clue whatsoever to solve this case, believe me! I want to solve this and kick Moriarty's butt personally if possible but the way it is now, both of us need our strength. This means, I'll go and order in Chinese now and you will eat a proper meal even if it means to hold you at gunpoint until you've finished. And then you will go to bed and sleep! You've been staring at the same things for too long now, get some rest and start again in the morning. If that's a problem, I can help you with that, I'm a doctor, I have my ways and if everything else fails…" John delivered this speech so far in a machine gun way that very much rivalled Sherlock's usual deduction style. Now he fixed a glare at his friend that made clear that he wasn't kidding one bit. "If everything else fails, Sherlock, I may be out of the military for some time, but I still have it in me to knock you out if need be and you know it! Is that understood?"

For about three seconds, Sherlock was surprised if not shocked by this sudden outburst, after that a smile formed on his lips and he watched the doctor with one eyebrow raised, utterly fascinated.

"You know John, at times I wondered how a person like you ever became Captain in the Army but then something like this happens. I first got a glimpse of it when you went all authoritarian on this Corporal at the Baskerville base but this now… this was interesting." Sherlock grinned, leaning back in his chair, a lot more relaxed than he was before.

"Sherlock…" John seethed. "Have you actually heard anything of what I said just now?"

"Oh yes, John, clearly. And let me tell you three things on this matter. Firstly, for now I will humour you and heed my dear doctor's advice but remember, I won't have you threaten me like that again in future. Secondly, I fancy sweet and sour chicken for dinner and thirdly…" the consulting detective got up from his chair, standing with only two quick steps directly in front of the doctor, leaving him with no chance but to look up at Sherlock, uncertainty obvious in his eyes. "And thirdly and probably the most important thing about your little outburst," Sherlock's voice took on a deep velvety tone. "… it was quite arousing to watch."

He took a second to observe John's reaction to his words - a sudden catch of breath, a gulp, wide shocked eyes and to his amusement, clearly dilated pupils – before he pushed past his friend to enter his bedroom to change.

* * *

><p>That's how John succeeded the previous evening; it didn't really feel like a success however. He was satisfied that Sherlock had eaten a decent meal for the first time in days and went to sleep without much fuss afterwards but John was the one who was left confused.<p>

The way the consulting detective looked in the morning showed that he had had a good night's sleep and was well rested. In contrast, John looked even more tired than before, even after a night full of gruelling nightmares he looked more rested. In fact Sherlock's innuendo had hunted his dreams in a very exhausting manner.

The doctor desperately clutched his cup of tea when the insufferable moan of Sherlock's mobile phone was heard. He didn't even have the energy to complain about that again, especially not as a soft knock on the door followed suit and a friendly "Whohoo!" announced Mrs Hudson's presence.

"Good morning Mrs Hudson, we're in the kitchen!" Sherlock called.

"Oh, good morning boys… aww look at this mess." She smiled fondly.

"Hardly a mess, dear Mrs Hudson, more of a 'creative chaos' helping me with the case. What can we do for you?"

"Sherlock, that's what you always say and John, what happened to you, dear, you look terrible." The old lady remarked.

"Thanks for the compliment, Mrs Hudson, but I'm fine, just tired."

"You should sleep more, John. Did Sherlock keep you awake all night again?"

The old lady hadn't thought anything weird when she asked that question but it led to John choking on his tea and Sherlock chuckling silently.

"I'm not to blame, Mrs Hudson, and frankly I'm a little hurt that you think me capable of it." The dark haired man complained playfully.

Mrs Hudson laughed. "I do not only think that you are capable of it, I know it, Sherlock. You're living in this flat for quite some time now and I may be old but I'm not stupid! But now, I actually wanted to bring you these biscuits and ask if there is any news about these murders, there is nothing new in the papers."

"Thank you Mrs Hudson." John said and took the biscuit box.

"Oh Mrs Hudson, you are way too interested in murders this early in the morning, it's not decent for such a charming lady. That's one of the reasons I like you!" Sherlock actually laughed and pressed a light kiss on Mrs Hudson's cheek. "But infuriatingly enough, there really are no news." He sighed, taking up his violin in the living room.

"And since when do you care for decent…" the doctor mumbled under his breath.

"Maybe there are after all." John interjected louder after a quick look out of the window.

Outside stood a familiar car and soon enough the door bell rang.

* * *

><p>Detective Inspector Lestrade looked just like John felt; obviously tired, clothes wrinkly and in dire need of a shave. The dark circles under his eyes told a story of suffering and over-time and only short naps on the office sofa.<p>

"Another victim, boys." He announced. "Here's the file! Please tell me you have a clue what this is all about. This one happened last night and we barely were able to hush things up a bit and hold back the details for another day or two before the papers will have my head. You need to solve this, Sherlock! As soon as possible!" Lestrade sounded desperate.

The consulting detective quickly skimmed through the thin file.

"No change in pattern by the look of it." He said thoughtfully, walked to the wall and pinned the new pictures there.

"No, nothing, everything's the same, it was just a lucky coincidence that one of our patrol cars found the body before anyone else entered the scene. Molly is at work right now; her results should come in about 30 minutes. Haven't you found anything so far?"

The DI looked at John.

"Nothing that would help to stop the murders but we are quite sure that we know now who is behind all of it." The doctor replied, glancing at Sherlock.

"It's a start and more than we have so far, so who is it?"

"Moriarty!" Sherlock said absentmindedly.

Lestrade closed his eyes and rubbed his face.

"Great, about the only name I didn't want to hear right now. So what is it this time, is he playing a sick game of hide and seek with you again?"

"I won't say it's unlikely, Lestrade but we can't be sure. Last time he contacted me directly, he hasn't done so now." The consulting detective said.

"Yeah, but last time he gave you a chance to actually save the people before they died. That's more you can say about the unlucky bunch now. So it's different this time and he hasn't contacted you, what makes you even think that it's Moriarty?" The DI normally knew better than to question Sherlock's deductions but he still hadn't lost hope that it wasn't Moriarty after all.

"The only reason we had a chance to save these people last time was because they were perfectly random victims, all of them…" Sherlock made a wave gesture at the pictures on the wall. "*they* most likely crossed his path at some point or another and probably pissed him off then, he's holding a grudge and they're paying for it." Sherlock explained sounding bored with every word.

"How do you know?"

"Well…" an amused glint in his eyes, Sherlock put an arm around John's shoulders. The ex-soldier tensed a little. "John actually did your job again and researched their lives and found out that all of them originally come from Ireland, Dublin and the surrounding suburbs. Exactly the place our consulting criminal himself came from most likely. Too much of a coincidence, isn't it? To put it in your words."

"Okay!" Lestrade sighed dejectedly. "Forget that I even asked. What do we do now?"

"We'll see about that as soon as Molly's results are in, hopefully they'll hold the clue we need, in the meantime, you should take a shower and prepare yourself to do, what you do best, being bullied by the newspaper reporters that is, while I'm doing what I do best, namely being generally brilliant and doing your job!"

"Sherlock!" John sighed. "I'm sorry about that but he's right, you probably should take a shower, that's true."

"Yeah, yeah… believe it or not you're not the first ones to tell me today so no harm done and no offence taken. Just… keep in touch, we need to solve this soon or my job is on the line and you know what that'd mean, Sherlock!"

"I'm fully aware, Lestrade, no need to pressure me, I have a personal interest in solving this case quickly!" the dark haired man snapped.

* * *

><p>Only minutes after Lestrade left the flat, Sherlock's mobile phone bemoaned another incoming message.<p>

With excited energy literally emanating from Sherlock, he picked it from the kitchen table and read Molly's short text. It only took a second for the understanding to brighten his features.

"Oh… ooh… clever, he's clever. It was right there all the time." The consulting detective mumbled, quickly stepping back to the wall with a pen.

"What! What is it, Sherlock?"

"Don't you see it, John! It's so easy. I actually miscalculated when I told Lestrade that Moriarty didn't contact me. He did, all of this was a message to me! Really clever."

John took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Sherlock, I know you think you're explaining yourself at the moment, but really you're not. Could you please tell me –for once- straight away what you're talking about? I'm not in the mood and frankly we don't have the time to play this guessing game!"

"Look at it, John. You'll understand it yourself. You are a military man after all. You should be familiar with acronyms and abbreviations. It was a message all along, all we have to do now, is to fill in the words and knowing Moriarty that shouldn't be too difficult."

The doctor raised an eyebrow and watched how Sherlock wrote down a string of letters.

"Oh…" understanding to what the detective wanted to tell him, dawned on John's face. Sherlock may be the world-class chemist between the two of them but John recognized the symbols of the chemicals used. The solution to the mystery wasn't in some complicated formula, no fertilizer or anything, it was in the periodic table of the elements itself.

"I knew you'd understand. It's brilliant isn't it? The first three victims: Cobalt, Phosphorus and Calcium, their symbols are Co, P and Ca, the fourth one had two, Sodium and Potassium but their symbols are Na and K and now there is the fifth victim and it is so obvious, Sulphur and Holmium, S and Ho. Please, every three year old could have solved that one. So the message reads: Co P Ca Na K S Ho. The last bit is easy, that's me, now we only have to find the meaning of the other letters. It's brilliant!"

The blonde doctor shook his head, he hardly thought it brilliant to kill five people to send a small message to Sherlock but then he remembered who they were up against and Moriarty was undoubtedly even crazier than Sherlock Holmes himself.

"Okay and how can we possibly find the meaning for the other letters, they could literally stand for anything, Sherlock."

"Ah that's the fun of it, find the right words that would fit a message from Moriarty to me."

"Well, Co… what do we have there… corpse, cost, cover…" John mumbled. "Unlikely it probably is a verb… Come!" John's eyes sparkled with satisfaction, Sherlock only nodded, smiled.

"And the next? What about P?"

"P… push, pride… ah no, play… it always was a game to him after all."

"Splendid, John, now we have Come Play, what could you possibly play that starts with Ca?" Sherlock hinted.

"Catch… not really imaginative, isn't he?" John chuckled a bit, looking at the next letters. Na… nation, name… nail? Not really…"

The consulting detective grinned.

"No, not really, John. You've done well so far, think about it. Come play catch… what should follow in this sentence logically?"

"Who!"

"Exactly and now remember the substances Na and K were found on the same victim, think of it as a unit…"

"You know, you could just tell me what the message says if you know it already, Sherlock." John sighed.

"And take the fun out of watching you? No…"

"Nice to know that I have some kind of entertainment value…" the doctor huffed, pointedly ignoring Sherlock's repeated innuendo. "Okay… a unit… K could stand for kill… kiss… key…"

"Think of chess…"

"Che… ah King!" John frowned at the letters and then groaned in recognition.

"Right, now adding a little punctuation and one conveniently forgotten article and we get: Come & Play: Catch the Naughty King, Sherlock Holmes!" The detective concluded and grinned.

"Fine and what do we do now?"

"Now, dear John, we wait for him to react. While you were still solving our little letter puzzle, I posted the message on my homepage. I contacted him like that before, I guess it'll work again. He started the game, now I made my move, we'll see what he plans next."

"Great, last time you did that I ended up in a vest covered in Semtex! But I'm not complaining. Tea?"

"That would be lovely, John!" Sherlock grinned like a cat that caught the mouse already.

Now he had the time to check his messages again for the one he conveniently ignored before, his brother hardly took priority over a case. But it wouldn't hurt to see what Mycroft wanted. It read:

_The change of tone was a nice touch, I never knew my little brother to be such a tease! -MH_


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello and welcome** **back to Chapter 5** of '_Reading the Signs_' **I hope you enjoyed it so far and you'll also like this chapter. It took me some time, sorry about that but our dear consulting criminal was being difficult again. And now without further ado, enjoy! I'll meet you again down there!**

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><p>If anything, Moriarty took his sweet time to answer Sherlock's message. The hours of the day dragged on and felt like whole days. Sherlock had been difficult to handle when he had no clue but some ideas to research on but he certainly was unpredictable now that he basically knew everything but couldn't do anything until Moriarty's reply came.<p>

Sulking he sat on the sofa, constantly checking his phone and the laptop for messages and yelling at the TV in between.

John had played with the thought of leaving him alone and get some fresh air just to escape Sherlock's mood swings but when he tried to phrase this idea out loud the consulting detective got really upset and all but forbid him to leave the house alone. It didn't take a genius to understand that behind Sherlock's reasoning ('The message can come at any moment, we have to be prepared to leave instantly, I can't have you wandering around somewhere then') laid something else entirely. Namely, last time they were in a similar situation, John left the house alone what resulted in him being kidnapped by Moriarty. John was touched by Sherlock's strange way of worrying.

However this discussion brought about another change in the mood of the consulting detective. He calmed down a bit, yelled less and had a generally thoughtful expression on his face, glancing at John from time to time.

The doctor ignored it for the first two hours but as the sunlight outside the windows began to fade, his curiosity got the better of him.

"What's the matter Sherlock?" he sat down in his chair.

"Nothing, John, why do you ask?"

"Oh, I think your expression for the past hours and your staring at me made me think that something is up. What is it? Do you have to admit something? Have broken some of my things again?" Actually John knew that Sherlock wouldn't have such a –frankly- worried expression on his face if it was something banal like that but he hoped that he would come closer to an answer this way.

"No John, I mostly take care of your possessions, you know that…"

The doctor chuckled unconvinced. "What is it then?"

"Nothing, it's just…" Sherlock took a breath and hesitated. That's when John started to feel uneasy. Hesitation and uncertainty weren't exactly part of the dark haired man's repertoire. That he was displaying both now worried the doctor.

"Yes? You know you can talk to me…" John switched into friendly doctor mode and got a glare for it.

"I'm well aware that I can, I just think about how to phrase it." He paused.

"John, when we get a reply from Moriarty what would you say… I mean hypothetically… what would you say if I asked you to stay here, to let me go alone?"

The doctor was stunned and blinked a little confused.

"Why would you do that? I mean, no Sherlock, absolutely not! I won't let you go alone and meet with this lunatic. The next thing I'd see could be you falling down a building. There's no way in hell that I'll let that happen just because you *ask* me to stay behind."

John slipped into a sudden agitation that surprised himself and Sherlock.

"Erm… well, fine then I won't ask you to."

"And just to make that clear now, you absolutely won't hide Moriarty's message from me and wander off on your own either!"

It was instances like these that Sherlock's expressions gave him away and this time his caught expression told John that this was exactly what the detective was planning to do.

"Now that that's settled, you haven't answered my question. Why would you do that in the first place? We're in this together, Sherlock, you can't just leave me behind like this."

"Well… it's just, I was thinking about what you said this morning… last time we were in a situation like this, I found you at the pool, covered in explosives only a second away from being blown to pieces, I… I just wanted to make sure that that's not going to happen again. If I knew you'd be save here at 221B, dealing with Moriarty would be a lot easier actually."

The second time in the last couple of minutes, John was stunned speechless.

"Let me get this straight. You try to keep me here because you're worried about my life?"

The consulting detective was on the verge of making a snide remark but settled with "Yes, John."

"Wow… that's unexpected."

"Not at all, actually. You should have known that I'm worried for your life, you are my best and arguably *only* friend, after all. I do care, you know!"

"Yeah, well that makes sense. I just was a little surprised, I suppose, you don't show that a lot, you know." John sighed, obviously touched by the detective's words.

"However… the thing is, Sherlock… I do care a lot too and that's why I absolutely can't let you go alone. I can't bear staying here not knowing if you return alive. I can take care for myself, you don't have to worry about me, I was in the Army after all, I dealt with more crazily armed people than Moriarty."

There was a moment of thoughtful silence. They didn't have these highly emotional talks normally and it took some time to think it through and sort out their feelings.

Once again Sherlock took a breath.

"Can you promise me that you'll come home alive, John?"

Sherlock made it sound like the doctor went back to war in the Afghan desert instead of a joint adventure to finally defeat the consulting criminal but it told John so much more about Sherlock and he made a mental note to talk about that again after this mess was dealt with. For now both of them were aware that there was a definite danger and that they wanted each other to keep save.

"I do if you promise me the same, Sherlock!"

For the longest second they stared into each others eyes until a smile tugged at both their lips.

"Deal!" Sherlock replied.

* * *

><p>John was cleaning his gun when the message finally came. An unfamiliar dinging sound announced the incoming message. John was a little startled but said nothing.<p>

"What is it?" he asked Sherlock, holding his breath.

"Come and play. Meet me on the rooftop of the Westbury Mayfair hotel, midnight." Sherlock read out loud, raising an eyebrow.

"That certainly is a strange location for this show down… but why does it have to be a rooftop?" John sighed.

Sherlock chuckled.

"You do have an irrational fear of me falling down some building, don't you? But I have to agree, the location is a bit strange. It's quite close to Pall Mall and the Ministry, an high security area I'd say and if we aren't on the Ministry security radar there, at least Mycroft will take a seat in the first row, what is he trying to do?" the detective mumbled. "Well anyway, we still have an hour until we have to leave, time to instruct the forces… a bit." He grinned and dialled Lestrade's number.

"We got the message, meeting at midnight. And no I won't tell you where yet, just make sure to have your team together, I call you when you're needed. Moriarty wants me and that's what he'll get. There won't be any killings in the next few hours so relax and wait." Sherlock ended the call with a groan.

"And he's still wondering why I don't call him during a case… it's always so tedious. Why can't he see that they always are in my way?"

"Well, I suppose he doesn't see it like that, Lestrade wants to keep you out of trouble."

"But why? I have you for that!"

John grinned.

"Yeah, well… maybe he doesn't trust me that much, I'm a military man, more than okay with looking at bloody corpses and a potential crackshot after all. I can only assume that he's still a little suspicious… your description on that first evening was quite thorough."

"That's true but I was in shock back then, I didn't know what I was talking about…" Sherlock smiled cheekily. "And Lestrade wouldn't arrest you even if he caught you red-handed. You're always trying to keep me save, that's a higher cause, he's sappy like that. Now let's get going, it won't hurt to arrive a little early and check the surroundings."

* * *

><p>The surroundings of the hotel looked disgustingly expensive to John. But it was a place that fit Moriarty's hunger of dramatic orchestration.<p>

During his military education he learned to quickly find the blind spots of a new territory, spots to hide your hit men. With a sinking heart the ex-Army doctor had to admit that in this aspect Moriarty couldn't have chosen a better place. If he chose to, they could get shot from at least seven different positions, no matter where they were standing on the roof.

"You are aware that we are knee-deep in trouble and still sinking?" John muttered, turning slowly on the spot.

"I've noticed, yes… makes it all the more exciting." Sherlock replied.

"Brat!"

"Well, well, well… if this isn't Sherlock Holmes and his favourite lapdog John Watson…"

They heard the annoying sing-song voice already before the man himself came into view.

Moriarty hadn't changed a bit since the last time they met him.

"James Moriarty, how annoying to meet you again…" the detective greeted the newcomer, his eyes trained on the man, his ears checking for possible other dangers.

"Don't overwork yourself, you won't hear or see anything… until it's too late, that is." Jim sounded amused. "Have you enjoyed my little message game."

"Exceedingly, I got lots of information from it that'll prove quite useful in future, I should be grateful. But tell me -just to indulge my curiosity, you see- what did these people do to you?"

Admittedly, John was a little surprised that Sherlock would ask about the victims, he didn't normally care for them.

"Ah, you figured out the connection I see… well that was to be expected from the world's only consulting detective… but you know… little things… wanted me to pay for books because I brought them back too late or denied me access to a club I wanted to go to… You know, I warned them back then that they'll regret it, I just settled old scores, you see."

"Interesting… but I do have to correct you, it was John who figured out the connection, you shouldn't underestimate a simple mind…"

John glanced at Sherlock, huffing on the inside but the statement brought attention to the doctor and John didn't know yet if he liked that.

Moriarty looked at him.

"It was you? So… it seems I really did underestimate you, living with the great Sherlock Holmes rubbed off on you, after all, didn't it Doctor Watson."

The blonde man shrugged.

"Obviously… although, it wasn't that difficult actually… how did you put it, Sherlock, 'every three-year old could have solved this' and that 'it lacks a certain grace', these were the words you used I believe." He taunted the criminal mastermind, provoking him.

Sherlock quickly peered at his friend, trying to figure out what his doctor was playing at and he also tried to convey an unspoken 'easy tiger' when he recognized the look of mad anger on Moriarty's face. But it looked like John intended exactly that.

"And you know, Jim, as much as I despise random murder in general, I have to agree with him. Your first game at least had some entertainment value and tickled the intellect, this puzzle with the chemical symbols, it was… " the doctor made a dramatic pause in his speech for good measure. "…pretty boring. What were you thinking?"

"You really need to teach your pet some manners, Sherlock. I've put to sleep calmer ones before and don't be mistaken, that can be arranged in seconds without warning this time… one little sign and you won't know from what direction it will hit him." The Irish man easily switched between his playful sing-song to an ice-cold tone effortlessly.

"I couldn't imagine someone more well-mannered. You see, loyalty is key and John didn't say one wrong thing, in my opinion. The idea behind the puzzle was clever, I admit that much but the performance really was clumsy and obvious. You've disappointed me." Sherlock made a show of said disappointment, sighing deeply, slowly walking towards the edge of the building, hands behind his back. Again he checked the surroundings. "When we met last time, I actually thought we were evenly matched but again I thought wrong. Really why is it that the only thing I'm ever wrong at believing that I finally found someone as intelligent as me. Can you tell me?" the detective turned around again, facing the mad criminal and his friend again.

John had observed Moriarty's reaction to his own and Sherlock's words. He was glad that his friend seemed to have understood what he was trying to do, provoking the criminal into making a mistake. It was a risky business because he could have pissed him off enough to shoot them on the spot, too but at least that went well. And especially Sherlock's words triggered a raw hate in the criminal, they were walking on an extremely narrow path that much was obvious.

"I disappointed you? I'm not as intelligent as you, Sherlock Holmes? You stand there, completely at my mercy and have the guts to tell me that I'm not as intelligent as you. We'll see about that Mr Sherlock Holmes." A crazy glint in his eyes, Moriarty slowly started to back away. John raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"A lack of grace you accuse me of, we'll see about that too. Last time, I promised you that I will burn your heart out. I could do that right now, you know but I'll give you a last warning this time." Moriarty glanced at John for a second. "We'll meet again soon, Sherlock and then we'll see who is more intelligent. Farewell and take care of your heart, soon enough it'll go up in flames and you won't be quick enough…"

Both of them had quickly realized what Moriarty was about to do but neither of them could stop him. Not that Sherlock wanted to in this case. But the moment Moriarty turned and opened the door inside the building, Sherlock realized what the criminal had meant by his words.

With the shutting of the door a muffled shot resonated through the otherwise quiet night air and Sherlock could do nothing more than running back to John and catch his friend before he hit the floor.

Carefully he lowered John down.

"John. John!" he called out to him, with an infinite degree of horror looking at the amount of blood staining John's coat.

"No need to go all drama queen, Sherlock, I got shot but I'm not deaf." The doctor muttered, opening his eyes slowly.

"You promised me, idiot!" Sherlock growled, making short work of John's coat and button-up shirt underneath to examine the wound.

"Do you plan on making this a habit every time we meet Moriarty? Because you know, as flattering as it is that you tear *my* clothes off, I wouldn't mind a change in position once in a while…" John chuckled hoarsly. "Also, I did promise you to stay alive, never said that I'd come home unscratched."

Sherlock quickly assessed that the bullet hadn't hit anything vital but John was bleeding a lot anyway. He tried to stop the bleeding by putting pressure on it.

"Would you mind keeping your mouth shut, you're bleeding like a butchered pig at the moment if that slipped your notice. I think that's hardly the time to discuss who gets to undress who!" Sherlock snapped but couldn't deny the amused undertone even in this situation.

They didn't have to wait long for help, only a few minutes later a team of paramedics burst through the door and took care of John.

Together with them one Mycroft Holmes entered the scene.

"Did you catch him?" were the first words Sherlock directed at his brother, not taking his eyes off of John.

"We caught quite a lot of his bunch and my special agents are tracking him, I expect him to be under lock and key soon." Mycroft said, also looking at John and the emergency team. Shame that they obviously missed one of Moriarty's men after all.

"That was quite a risky stunt you pulled there, dear brother."

"I didn't start it, Mycroft… It actually was John's idea…"

"You can't deceive me, Sherlock, you were planning on exactly the same!"

"That's beside the point. Anyway… thank you." The last two words sounded pretty strained, coming through Sherlock's gritted teeth.

"You're welcome! It's rare for my brother to tell me to 'keep an eye out for him', what choice did I have, Mummy would have never forgiven me if I didn't… and now, go and accompany Dr Watson to the hospital. You need to finish your 'undressing' discussion if I'm not mistaken. Good night, Sherlock and my best wishes to Dr Watson." Mycroft smiled brightly.

"Piss off!" Sherlock grumbled, quickly following John and the paramedics downstairs to the ambulance.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello again, I promised I'd meet you again here and I have a reason. With this chapter I consider '<strong>_Reading the Signs_**' finished. I want to thank you for taking the time to read this story and sincerily hope you enjoyed it. Also, for those of you** **who are thinking now 'No, you can't end this here!' (Are there any at all?) It's true I consider it finished here but I won't completely rule out the option of a sequel/one-shot after some time when I figured out the direction I want to go now.**

**Other than that, I'm only left to say thank you to all of you who took the time to read and review and story alert RtS, I'm really gratefull to you. It's been a blast!**


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